


Truth and Honor

by Smalltowngirl



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Lyanna Lives, Lyanna doesn't have a great reputation in Westeros, Lyanna is the Anne Boleyn of Westeros, Sloooooow Burn, Slow Burn, alters points of view, i haven't decided exactly when Sansa and Jon will meet yet, past lyanna/rhaegar - Freeform, they haven't met yet and wont for a while yet, two sides of the truth, what if Jon had been raised in Essos like Daenerys had, what if Ned was stricter on the girls kept a tighter leash on them due to Lyanna's actions, when you make decisions but don't have all the facts those decisions might not be the best
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-07-14
Packaged: 2020-05-18 17:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,171
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19339447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smalltowngirl/pseuds/Smalltowngirl
Summary: What defines truth?  How do you decide something is the truth?  What if you don't have all the facts?  Is it still the truth?  Truth is that the truth is subjective.  What is true for me might now be true for you.  As for Honor well the definition of honor usually depends on how you were raised and the culture you were raised in.  Come to a world where instead of dying in the Tower of Joy Lyanna flees with the King's guard protecting her after they are told Rhaegar was killed on the Trident.  Come to a world where instead of being associated with honor the name Stark is associated with broken oaths and dishonor.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The pairings for this story are too far away to truly matter but will be Jonsa and Gendraya(note this may change as I read the books if I decide I like Edric better) This will be Sansa/Jon centric story and if you don’t like that please back out of this story now.
> 
> In a lot of ways this story was inspired by a bunch of Lyanna survives stories that pick up right when the Targs retake the throne and don’t seem to want to explore the effect Lyanna surviving and raising Rhaegar’s son in exile has on Westeros in the aftermath and rebuilding of Robert’s Rebellion, especially the confirmation that she was willing and not a victim. How would that effect Ned, the view of the North, then later Arya and Sansa who as female Starks and daughters of the North would be tainted by whatever opinion has been created by Lyanna. We know Robert’s anger was a fearsome thing would Lyanna surviving and bearing his enemy a son turn his obsessive love into an obsessive hate? Lyanna’s actions whether you feel she was truly in love with Rhaegar or not if your story has her going into exile with her son would be viewed as being a willing participant in her abduction and therefore bearing the blame for the chaos that followed. Her father and Brandon’s deaths, the deaths of Elia and her children, those deaths created a lot of animosity in the kingdoms and bad blood having a living target to lay the blame, well….just think of how Anne Boleyn is thought of.
> 
>  **Warnings:** I am Anti-Targaryen and Anti-Targaryen restoration so those values and thoughts will likely come through my writings any flames based on that will be deleted. Some of these characters may come off as OC but that is because of the different upbringing they had and likely a result of the aftermath of Lyanna living and being in exile with Jon.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Summary:** Truth can be subjective. We often define our truths based on the information we receive daily but what happens when we don’t receive all the information or the source is tainted, biased. Our truth becomes skewed. In one history Eddard Stark found his sister dead on a bed of blood in the Tower of Joy. He returns home to Winterfell with his sister’s bones and a bastard son. The history of Westeros evolves based on his truth his sister dead because of Rhaegar, he has a bastard son and the south is no place for Starks. In this story the King’s Guard charged with Lyanna’s protection get her out of Westeros after Rhaegar’s death on the Trident knowing that Westeros isn’t safe for her or Rhaegar’s unborn child and as such everybody’s truths change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Background:** Before reading my story you need to understand some of my head canons for this story. I believe Lyanna had a naïve infatuation with Rhaegar built by her belief that he was going to help her escape from an unwanted betrothal. She, like Sansa we are told, loved the songs and tales of knights and such and would have likely seen it as like something out of a tale or a song. However being kept in the tower in Dorne would have quickly disabused her of any infatuation with Rhaegar. The reason I don’t buy into the epic love affair is because Lyanna who was so disgusted by a man she had never met and the idea of being married to him because he couldn’t be faithful to a betrothal so I honestly don’t think she would fall head over heels in love with a man who was legally tied to another woman and by being with her was not being faithful to his wife. So if you are looking for an epic romance between Lyanna/Rhaegar go find another story. The fact that she was kept in a Tower in Dorne, really how epically romantic keeping your Mistress/Second Wife/Whatever in a tower in your wife’s country really how epically romantic, I mean If you get over the fact that if at any time she changed her mind about being there willingly and pulled an Arya and escaped she would be in extremely hostile territory with people who would be more likely to kill her for the slight her relationship with the prince is to their beloved Princess Elia. So again no epic romance between Lyanna/Rhaegar, no what might have beens or if only’s a maudlin thoughts about Rhaegar from Lyanna. Next Arthur Dayne might be a good man, an honorable man but that doesn’t mean he won’t do questionable things if he thought it was for the right reason. The only reason why I believe that Lyanna was still in Dorne when Ned found her is because I feel that Arthur and Gerold couldn’t run the risk of attempting to flee with Lyanna on the chance that she might escape. I believe shortly after Rhaegar left to join the Royal Forces against the rebellion someone let slip what happened to her father and brother and any cooperation she might have had with the kings guard protecting her vanished like snow on a hot June day. Which means after Rhaegar’s death even though it would have been better and safer to get her out of Dorne, get her and her unborn child out of Westeros all together they couldn’t risk it because Lyanna was no longer cooperating with them and likely by then they knew how resourceful she was keeping her in Dorne until after the baby was born. Then once the baby was born they could use the baby to keep her in line as they escaped from Westeros it was only chance that Ned Stark found them as the baby was being born. So this story takes my head canon and supposes what would happen if Lyanna didn’t know that Aerys killed Rickard and Brandon. Also Arthur Dayne will likely do some questionable things. The main thing to remember is that his first loyalty is to house Targaryen and everything he does is in service to House Targaryen. Arthur Dayne was a King’s Guard to Aerys Targaryen and people were talking about his descent into cruelty, his descent into madness before the Tourney at Harrenhall so it stands to reason that Arthur stood by and witnessed Aerys do cruel things and did nothing to stop it because he honored the oath he made as King’s Guard over true justice or mercy. So that is how Arthur will be portrayed in my story and I don’t have time for whines about how that’s not Arthur Dayne he was honorable he was good etc. Arthur’s loyalty will be to Jon and Jon alone but again he’s a Targaryen Loyalist so there will be times he’s going to come off as not a nice guy to others.

**Prologue:**

The raven announcing Prince Rhaegar’s death had sent those residing in the Tower of Joy into flurry of activity.  At nearly six moons gone Lyanna Stark moved slower but none of her three male companions ever voiced a complaint or tried to make her move faster.  The heat in Dorne caused a layer of sweat to bead on her brow as the horse beneath her shifted.  They were making their way to Wyl, from there the hope was to charter a ship to Essos, at least that was what Ser Arthur had told her after the decision had been made to leave the Tower.

A tear trickled down her cheek at the thought of leaving her homeland, she’d tried to make the argument for going north.  Lyanna had told them that once she appeared healthy and alive but ruined the war would be over there would be nothing left to fight over.  Her father would protect her and her child, she would promise to send her daughter south to wed Aegon when she came of age just as Rhaegar had wished when he’d made a child of fire and ice his payment for helping her break the betrothal.

Ser Arthur had looked at her sadly, “I’m sorry princess.  Your father passed away shortly after you disappeared,” he paused letting what he had said hang in the air between them.  Lyanna felt her heart stutter Ser Arthur didn’t say how her father died but Lyanna knew she just knew it had something to do with her.  “Your brother is lord of Winterfell now.”  Ser Arthur didn’t say any more but then he didn’t need to.  Lyanna loved her brothers but she knew Brandon, he wouldn’t help her he’d be furious with her for failing to do her duty to her house for bringing shame on her house and he would likely do something that she wouldn’t live for him to regret later.  No going to Essos with the men Rhaegar left to protect her and his unborn daughter was her best option and the best option for her baby.

The journey to Wyl took two days at the pace they were forced to keep for Lyanna’s sake.  Once there it was a simple matter for Ser Arthur to secure passage for her, Oswell and himself aboard the Sea Wolf which disembarked the next morn.  Ser Gerold would see them off then return to the Red Keep and King Aerys side.

~~

The journey to Myr would take almost 4 moons and none of the three companions were sure if they would stay there or leave.  The Sea Wolf was full of Westerosi fleeing the unrest caused by the rebellion as well as merchants from the various free cities of Essos.  Several of the business men sent and received ravens on the ship.  Arthur, Oswell and Lyanna kept to themselves but always listened to what news they could to see which way the war at home was going.

They were almost to Myr when the news of the sack of King’s Landing reached them.  The news of Jaime Lannister’s betrayal of his Kings Guard vows makes Ser Arthur’s face go still as stone he won’t look at Lyanna before he excuses himself to go up on deck.  Ser Oswell’s eyes are suspiciously shiny, he opens his mouth as if to say something then shakes his head and takes up post outside her room.

It shouldn’t be surprising that she goes into labor that night.  It’s only by the grace of the gods she survives.  A Maester traveling to Myr is aboard the ship and when it becomes apparent she’s having issues Ser Arthur seeks him out.  She delivers her son just as dawn breaks.  She lets out a half laugh half sob when she’s told and the boy placed in her arms.

“A boy,” Ser Arthur says from the post he’s taken up at the door after fetching the Maester, “you’re sure.”

“I forged two silver chains at the citadel studying medicine.  I can assure you it is definitely a boy,” the Maester states firmly.  He’s an older man, his hair already silver and not betraying the color it had been in his youth, his mouth is firm and it doesn’t look as if he smiles much but as he’s saved her life and her son’s Lyanna will forgive him that.  “She lost a bit of blood during the birth but it’s nothing to worry too much over.  Ensure she gets a lot of red meat in her diet for the next few weeks and she’ll be good as new.”  Both knights are nodding their heads to the Maester’s instructions.  “I also recommend she stay off her feet for at least the next 3 days to heal a bit.   Light activity for the next six weeks,” the Maester’s eyes narrowed as he looked between both knights now, “and absolutely no sexual intercourse for at least six months.”

Ser Oswell flushes red and opens his mouth.  What he intends to say in response to the Maester’s final order Lyanna isn’t sure because Ser Arthur is there thanking the Maester and escorting him from the cabin.  He’s assuring the master they will follow all of his instructions.  Lyanna looks down at the babe in her arms and feels a rush of love go through her.  She never realized she could love a person as much as she loves her son.

A small bitter part of her heart wishes Rhaegar was still alive so she could rub his prophecy in his face, as the thought enters her head a shudder runs through her body and she shivers as she wonders if had Rhaegar survived her son would have been taken from her and she would have been kept hostage till she quickened with child again until he had his Visenya, if he would have accepted his son or had him executed to prevent him from being a threat to his half-brother’s inheritance.  That didn’t matter anymore, Rhaegar was dead and poor little Aegon was as well.

Lyanna is so lost in her son one hand stroking his dark curls that she doesn’t notice Ser Arthur return until he speaks, “What will his name be princess?”

“Daeron perhaps,” piped up Oswell, “or Jaehaerys.”

“Jonnel,” Lyanna said softly her eyes trained on her son, “Jonnel Aemon Targaryen.”

“A northern name,” Ser Arthur said his voice cool with bite.  Lyanna raised her eyes to meet the Sword of the Morning’s eyes no fear and lifted her chin, “Princess...”

“Prince Rhaegar chose me for my northern blood.  Never has Targaryen blood been mingled with Northern.  My son may be a dragon but he is a wolf and he will have a Northern name,” her voice didn’t rise but it was firm.  Her eyes went back to her son a feeling of dread starting to build in her heart.  Rhaegar was dead, Aerys was dead, and Aegon was dead.  Her teeth sank into her lower lip and began to worry it, by rights her infant son was now king.  Rhaegar had taken her as a second wife to ensure his daughter would be born legitimate and now that meant their son was legitimate.  Did she want her son to be used as a figurehead for any restoration efforts, her eyes rose again to look at the two knights in the room with her as they knelt before her bed and swore new King’s Guard vows to her infant son, and did she even have a choice.  She was wholly dependent on these two men, she had no money, and they were heading to a strange land where she had no friends.  If they were determined to make a king of her son she wouldn’t be able to stop them.

Stark grey eyes narrowed then lowered to the babe asleep in her arms and she made a silent vow to herself.  These knights could make a king of her son, make a warrior of him, a figure head if they wished, but she would ensure he would be a just king.  Her son would not promise a woman help only to attach conditions on it, he would not be so enamored by a prophecy that he couldn’t see anything else, her lips curled into a sneer, nor would her son be one who would start a war because he’d been spurned by a woman.  Lyanna had no faith that her former betrothed Robert Baratheon would be much better of a king then Aerys, a man who waged war, because he’d been denied a woman, and sowed chaos amongst the smallfolk should not be crowned.  No she would teach her son to be better than that, to be as honorable as her beloved father, as sweet as her baby brother Benjen, he would be raised in the faith of the seven the knights would see to that but she would teach him the old ways and the old gods.  A king of the north and the south she vowed it by the old gods and the new.

~~

Lord Eddard Stark was exhausted and heart sick.  He hadn’t wanted to return to the Red Keep, the blood, the broken bodies of the babies laid before his king, no he wouldn’t think of that.  After the lead he’d had of his sister being in Dorne hadn’t panned out he’d returned to the capital hoping to find more leads on Lyanna’s whereabouts.  Shortly after entering the capital he’d been summoned to the Red Keep. He sent a side glance at the King’s Guard escorting him.

Ser Boros Blount had been short, curt and unfriendly.  The man had barely let him dismount before insisting Ned accompany him to the Red Keep.  The silence didn’t bother him and he used the journey to survey the capital and the Red Keep.  Repairs were underway but there was still clear evidence of the horror that had taken place here less than 3 moons ago.  Entering the throne room Ned took a knee at the base of the thrones steps and waited to see what was so urgent his friend and king had summoned him so unceremoniously for.

“Did you know?”

The question is barely more than a whisper but it carries through the hall.  A cold shiver of unease runs down Ned’s back as he raises his head to look his best friend in the eye, “Your Grace?”

“Did you know,” Robert roared shooting to his feet off the iron throne his blue eyes electric with rage.

“Your grace has me at a disadvantage,” Ned stated slowly remaining on his knee, “I’ve only just returned from Dorne.  The Tower was empty no sign of use.  I returned to search the Keep’s library hoping to find another place Rhaegar may have been holding Lyanna.”

“Holding Lyanna,” Robert snorts as he cuts Ned off mid-sentence.  “Your whore of a sister went with him willingly.”

Ned felt as if every drop of blood drained from his face, “Your grace,” the words slipped out faint.

“My master of whispers reports the Sword of the Morning and Ser Oswell Whent have been spotted in Myr with Lyanna and babe they are proclaiming Jon Targaryen First of his Name king of the seven kingdoms,” Robert spits out sitting back down his rage, pushed back for the time as he sees the true shock and surprise in Eddard Stark’s grey eyes.  They’d grown up together knew each other better than their true born brothers knew them.  Ned wouldn’t be able to fake that shock for him and Robert not be able to tell.

Ned exhaled slowly, “spies, whispers your grace that’s not proof,” his shoulders relaxed even as his mind flat out denied the information he was being told.  “Lyanna wouldn’t have gone willingly with him and even if she did she wouldn’t have stayed after what happed to father and Brandon.”

Pity entered Robert’s blue eyes, “Grandmaester Pycelle presented me with notice from the Citadel.  Rhaegar petitioned and received permission to take a second wife.  He also provided me with proof of their marriage.”  Robert waved his hand so that the aged Grandmaester could present Ned with the documentation.

Even with the proof in front of him Ned still shook his head, he couldn’t believe it the denial was in his head.  His hands started to shake.  He’d known his little sister hadn’t wanted to marry Robert, she’d complained about it often enough before the Tourney at Harrenhall, but this.  Choosing to be Rhaegar’s concubine over an honored wife little better than a whore in the eyes of the people, little better than a whore in the eyes of the North.  His stomach knotted.  The old gods didn’t recognize second wives, Lyanna’s faith shouldn’t have allowed her to take the position yet he had the proof in his hands.  It didn’t matter if she went willingly or no his father and Brandon would have still gone to the capital to have her returned because Rhaegar couldn’t offer her any honorable arrangement that the North would recognize.  Rickard Stark would never give his blessing for his beloved daughter to be a second wife, a position his faith would never allow him to recognize.

He remembered his father had stopped briefly in the Vale before going to the capital to ask him if he’d known anything about his sister’s plans.  Rickard Stark hadn’t been sure if Lyanna had run away or been kidnapped he’d gone south to get to the bottom of it as well as to insist that his daughter be returned.  The fact that Lyanna had willingly snubbed her duty to her house, her duty to her family that just made his father and brother’s deaths so much worse.  Seeds of rage were planted in his belly.

“Lord Stark,” Robert said drawing himself up, “I’m ordering your return to Winterfell.  As a testament to our years of friendship and the belief that you did not know of Lyanna’s breach of faith I will not strip you of the title of Warden of the North as some of my advisors wish for me to do.  Remain in Winterfell and do not interfere, do not send your sister aid, do not shelter your sister or her bastard son.  If you should do so I will view them as acts of treason.”

Ned rose up his grey eyes starting to kindle, “Have no fear your Grace as Lord of Winterfell, Warden of the North I disavow Lyanna.”  His voice starts out soft but gains fervency and power, “She’ll know no friends in the North, no one will shield her, give her aid or succor.  No bannerman of mine will acknowledge her call, we don’t claim her, and we don’t recognize her.”  His grey eyes burn, “Her actions led to the death of our lord and heir so the North no longer knows its daughter Lyanna.  I vow it by the old gods and the new.  She wished to be a Targaryen she can forever more be known as Lyanna Targaryen or Lyanna Snow but she is no longer a Stark.”

~~

The rage lasted him till he got to Riverrun there the flames were banked as his wife introduced him to his son.  For just a second he could almost pretend that his sister and her son didn’t exist that the rest of the world didn’t exist.  Ned knows his wife has questions for him but he doesn’t have time to answer them now.  They rest there just long enough to rest the horses and resupply before continuing the journey north, continuing the journey home.

There’s apprehension in his wife’s blue eyes as she survey’s her new domain from the litter she’s riding in with their son.  Son, Ned shakes his head a small smile tugging at his lips as he thinks of the babe with a head of red curls, Catelyn had named the boy Rob in his absence for his friend.  The journey to Winterfell was uneventful.  He’d sent ravens to all of his bannermen to advise them of Lyanna’s new status in the North and the role she’d played in the death of their lord.  Howland Reed who’d gone with him to Dorne and been waiting for him to return from the Red Keep had been shocked then tried to deny the information he’d given them.  He’d advised his friend and bannerman that he’d seen the proof but if he doubted his word Howland was more than welcome to petition the King to see the proof for himself.  Howland had become resigned after that, the lithe Cranogman had still insisted that it didn’t sound like Lyanna but accepted the reality for what it was.

The party entered the courtyard of Winterfell and a smile broke out on his face, his shoulders slumped and he felt like he could breathe for the first time in month’s years even.  The sight of his brother Benjen waiting to meet him filled him with joy.  He dismounted and went to greet him with a hug.

Benjen stepped back and then bowed, “Winterfell is yours my lord.”

Ned laughed slightly as Catelyn left the litter and came to join him, “Allow me to present your good sister Catelyn and your nephew Rob.”

Benjen smiled and moved to buss Cat’s cheeks, “Sister, welcome to Winterfell.”  Ned felt worry prick at his heart as he noticed that the smile didn’t reach Ben’s eyes.

“Let me show you to your chambers my lady,” Ned said taking his wife by the arm.  “Ben I’ll see you in my solar in a half hour.”

“Yes,” his brother said with a quick nod and a slight bow.  Ned led Catelyn into the keep and wondered what other news the old gods had for him.

~~

They’d been in the solar for over an hour going over the books and the happenings of the North that had occurred while Ned had been in the South.  Both men had an ale in their hand sipping and reminiscing.  Silence fell over them and Ned sat and waited.

Finally Ben looked up at him, “Is it true?”  Ned arched an eyebrow questioningly.  “The news you sent North about Lyanna, that she choose Rhaegar, that she married,” Ben’s voice trailed off as an expression of disgust colored his face.

“Aye it’s true,” Ned said anger that never truly went away in his voice.  “I saw the bastard’s petition for the exemption to the faith myself as well as the proof of their marriage.”  He looked down into his mug of ale for a long moment, “There’s whispers from the East that she bore him a son one she and the King’s Guard she fled with have proclaimed king.”

He waited to see if Ben would tell him what else was troubling his mind but nothing else was shared that night nor any other for almost 4 moons.  Then his younger brother was in his solar drunk and told him again that he couldn’t believe Lyanna married Rhaegar.  “She just wanted out of the betrothal with Robert,” he slurred.

“What,” Ned said his heart pounding as he looked at his baby brother.

“She was so disgusted by him at the Tourney,” Ben said earnestly, “The prince was going to help her.”

“How do you know this,” Ned asked slowly getting to his feet.  “Ben how do you know any of this?”

“Because I helped her,” he said, then the younger boy broke down.  “Because I helped her.”

The next moon Ned sent his brother to the Wall to take the black.  It was the lightest punishment he could think of and the story given out was that his brother had joined willingly, that Ben had begged to join.  If Robert ever found out that Ben helped Lyanna run away, a small bitter part of him, the part that ached for his father and lost brother, that felt overwhelmed in the Lordship he’d never been prepared for wanted desperately to punish him harsher, to send him to King’s Landing for Robert to deal with.

The Stark name had enough scandal attached to it, bawdy tales were already being sung about Lyanna and how she’d seduced Rhaegar away from Elia, tales that named Lyanna as a northern witch, a seductress and a woman with no honor.  Those tales asked what future daughters of house Stark might be like if this was the example of how Stark women behaved in the south.  Any daughter he and Catelyn had would be tarred by Lyanna’s reputation, their prospects dim and reputations already poised to be horrid and they hadn’t even been born yet.  He made a vow to himself not to repeat the mistakes of his father with any daughter he had.  His daughters would be raised to know their duty and to honor it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So lots of anger on both sides of the equation and as you can see Truth is subjective. Anybody angry at Ned please remember he’s been traumatized by the war and he was doing all of this to save his sister only to find out it was all a lie. Ned is very big on honor and while a lot of authors just use the second wife thing as a get out of jail free card that doesn’t mean that it was.  
> The faith of the seven really didn’t like the Targaryen marital practices it was the source of a lot of strife between the royal family and the faith as well as a few rebellions. So claiming Lyanna was a second wife and expecting everyone to be hunky dory with it is a bit unrealistic especially since the seven wasn’t exactly kosher with it and the North which doesn’t follow the seven at all wouldn’t have been behind it at all so yeah Lyanna willingly going with Rhaegar and it being known from the beginning wouldn’t have saved Brandon and Rickard. Brandon would have still ridden south to challenge Rhaegar for his sister because in the north’s eyes he’s dishonoring her and Rickard would have still ridden south to save him and they both still would have died.  
> So some other things this is a medieval story set in medieval times so if something hurts your modern sensibilities please leave it at the door. In medieval times women were betrothed and yeah running off as Lyanna did was foolish, stupid and naïve. Women especially women of rank very rarely got to choose their husbands and even rarer got to choose their future. Lyanna was spoiled just as Arya was by being allowed to run wild as they were without being reigned in so Ned vowing to be tougher is definitely going to have an impact on Arya, but it’s also going to have an impact on Sansa as well which will also impact their relationship as sisters.  
> Lyanna’s reputation in Westeros is going to be very similar to Anne Boleyn’s reputation during the Great Matter. Lyanna being alive and well in Essos basically allows for her to be a good scape goat in a way that her dead wouldn’t allow her to be. Her death made her a victim along with Elia, her alive turns Elia into her victim of sorts.  
> This whole chapter was about setting up the worlds Sansa and Jon live in and the truths that define their lives.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Robert Baratheon 1st of his name is King. What kind of King will he be when he's betrayed instead of living with a ghost?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guys thank you so much for your great response to my story! I honestly wasn’t expecting such a good and positive turnout and all the positive feedback. You guys are the best. So it was after I was at work and I was thinking about my characters and things like the Greyjoy rebellion and how Robert and Eddard are going to treat each other during it and it struck me. Robert won’t be obsessed with Lyanna or so enraged with Targaryens because of Lyanna’s death that he wants them all dead. Sure he hated Aerys and Rhaegar, but his hatred for the children always struck me as extreme sure initially while he was still riding the high of his anger and Lyanna was still missing and he was worried about her safety and then after as she was dead, he nursed it, he clung to it but now it’s different and the Targaryens are his kin and we know how much kinslaying is looked down on in Westeros. So what if Lyanna’s betrayal redirected him to a point and well I don’t want to give it away. Also some ages of some characters are changed.

**Chapter 1:**

Robert Baratheon, 1st of his name was officially married.  His hand Jon Arryn had advised him of the necessity of it after word had arrived of Lyanna’s treason and the birth of Jonnel Targaryen.  For the security of the kingdom he needed to marry and father an heir as soon as possible.  Jon had presented Cersei Lannister as a bride to bind the Westerlands and house Lannister to him.

He took another drink.  Cersei was a fair as Lyanna was dark at least he wouldn’t have to worry about mistaking them.  His wedding night would be free of ghosts but he couldn’t get his head into it.  His mind was miles away.  His brother had left as soon as the vows had been said to take the armies to Dragonstone where the Dowager Queen Rhaella was confined with the final garrison of Targaryen loyalist soldiers and her youngest child, perhaps children if the rumors that the Queen had been pregnant when she left were true.

‘ _Kin’_ a sibilant voice whispered through his head, _‘kinslayer.’_   Robert shook his head and took another large gulp of ale.  Images flashed through his head two small bodies wrapped in red cloth laid at his feet.  A small girl with dark hair, _‘Just like Maya,’_ Robert shook his head again.  No he wouldn’t think of it.  He rose to his feet, “The bedding,” he roared and the guests roared with him and for just a bit longer he was able to forget.

~~

The siege ended and his young cousins escaped.  Dowager Queen Rhaella’s body was transported back to the capital escorted by his brother.  Stannis had been sheepish, not so much as you’d notice as his Queen had been icy and cutting as she’d lambasted his younger brother for his failure to end the Targaryen line.

He’d ordered Jaime to escort Cersei away from the throne room commenting that perhaps the queen was overwrought and that was why she spoke of things beyond her womanly comprehension.  After she’d gone, Stannis explained in detail the end of the siege and what had led to the loss of the last Targaryen children in their grasp.  Robert sat back in his chair and bit back the urge to lambast his brother in a manner not that dissimilar from Cersei, but, he frowned.  An idea was starting to percolate in his mind.  Later when he was alone with Jon Arryn he told him the thoughts that were going through his head, his thoughts about the three potential claimants to his throne as well as the Targaryen legacy.

Jon had listened to him, listened to the entire mad half thought out idea.  He hadn’t scoffed or told him he was crazy.  In fact Jon had given him one of those rare proud smiles, the ones his foster father had been more apt to bestow on Ned than him.  It quickly turned worried when Robert spoke about his idea to make peace with Dorne.

It wasn’t so much the idea that Jon had a problem with as the way Rob intended to carry it out.

~~

“Tell me why I shouldn’t slit your throat,” a voice hissed out as an arm slung around Robert as soon as he entered the hall where he and Prince Doran were going to be entering negotiations.  A slight pricking at his throat warned him that the treat was very real.

“If I die then my men will destroy the bones of your family,” Robert bluffed easily.  His men wouldn’t actually destroy the bodies but they would ensure that the Martell’s never got the closure they wanted.  He heard the man behind him give a muffled curse.

“Oberyn let him go,” an accented voice drifted out from further in the hall, “and that had better not be one of your poisoned blades.”  The blade and the arm holding him disappeared.  Robert took a step away, paused for a second then deciding that if he was dead confronting his attacker wouldn’t save him and continued to meet with Doran.

He heard a dark chuckle behind him but still didn’t turn around, “Prince Doran,” he greeted bowing his head slightly in gesture of respect for the man.

“King Robert,” the other man said sketching a mocking bow.  “May I present my brother Prince Oberyn.”

Now Robert turned to greet his attacker, the man was a few years younger than himself a wry smile stretch across his lips, “Prince Oberyn.”

“So you came here, I can assure you that Dorne is not planning on rebelling,” Doran said as he stepped back and sat in his chair at the table neither waiting for Robert to sit first or indicating he wished for Robert’s permission to sit.

Rather than anger him the rudeness caused a feeling of happiness to spark inside of him.  The court games played in King’s Landing caused his back to itch.  The people there smiled at you while plotting your downfall in secret.  Even his wife had a look in her eyes sometimes that made him wonder if she plotted and planned against him.  This openness even if right now it was lack of respect and rudeness made him feel far more comfortable than all the sweet smiling courtiers in Kings Landing.  “No you’re not planning to rebel but out of all the realms harmed by the rebellion yours was harmed in a way that is harder to repair and in a way that is longer lasting.”

Doran frowns obviously he hadn’t been expecting this tact and wasn’t sure where Robert was going with this.  Oberyn obviously as confused as his brother but perhaps not as well versed as keeping his own counsel, “And how do you propose to repair the rape and murder of a beloved sister, the slaughter of innocents.”

“I can’t,” Robert said simply surprising both Martell brothers who looked at each other not sure where this conversation is going. “Your family was harmed, insulted, savaged and brutalized.  I know you hold the Lannister army to blame for most of it and myself for not condoning it sooner,” he shook his dark head and looked away from the Martell brothers for a moment staring off into space.  The brutalized bodies being laid in front of him as he sat on the Iron Throne, they haunted his dreams the nights he wasn’t exhausted or drunk enough to fall asleep instantly.  “They were also wronged by Aerys and Rhaegar.  Aerys verbally abused Elia and when danger lurked outside the walls of the castle he forced her to remain in a dangerous place instead of allowing her to flee with the Dowager Queen and Prince Viserys.  Rhaegar emotionally abused her, forced her to bare another child even when Rhaenys birth nearly killed her and when she couldn’t give him the third child he so desperately wanted he abandoned her.”  Doran frowned much more definitively now while Oberyn muttered various Rhoynish curses under his breath.  “Bringing you there bones is simply the least I can do and only a first step I’m taking.”

“First step,” Doran said softly curiosity entering his eyes where there had once only been disdain.

Robert nodded his head, “My hand is working on drafting a series of laws that will ensure that the Targaryen madness will never infect the Iron Throne again, the inbreeding and feelings of superiority.  Laws to prevent the heir to the throne, the king or queen from being the product of a brother and sister union.  Laws that prevent the heir to the throne, king or queen from marrying his or her sibling.  Also if you are willing to be patient I’m willing to promise you revenge.”

“What do you know of our interest in revenge,” Oberyn scoffed.

“I know that Tywin Lannister will never name Tyrion his heir, Jaime cannot inherit so lordship of Casterly Rock will fall to one of my children with Cersei.”  He held up a piece of paper, “I just received word that my wife is pregnant with our first child.”  The two Dornish men nodded following his line of thought, “So what if in return for your support of my reign I promise you my first born daughter will be named Lady of Casterly Rock,” he grinned wolfishly, “I’m choosing my daughter instead of my second son because I think Tywin will see it as more of an insult and we will agree here and now she will marry your son, Quentyn, I believe is his name.”

A small smile quirked at his lips at the mention of his newest child, Oberyn however was focused on what he saw as the flaw to this plan, “And what if you don’t have a daughter?”

“Then my second son will take the rock,” Robert said with a shrug, “Cersei and I will need to have at least two children, my advisers would like more but if she wishes to stop after two I won’t force her to have more,” he didn’t sneer but he wanted too.  Cersei had made it quickly apparent that while she would do her duty she didn’t enjoy it and often accused him of hurting her.  He sought the advice of a maester and tried every trick he knew but his wife detested his presence in her bed.  In all honesty there was a small sense of surprise that had engulfed him when he got the raven as he hadn’t expected his wife to fall pregnant so fast given how much Cersei tried to avoid the marriage bed and how few times they had coupled before he’d left for Dorne.  “It won’t be as much of an insult but if he’s promised to a daughter of Dorne who isn’t the heir to the seat and the only daughter available happens to be a Sand I’m sure that will put Tywin’s nose out of joint.”  He sent the two men another grin, “Your blood ruling from the Rock, taking everything Tywin holds dear as I will insist that he retire when my child reaches 18 name days old, either by taking the black or by becoming a King’s Guard like his son forswearing owning lands and titles.”  He looked down at his hands briefly, “I can’t give you Gregor Clegane but I can put you in the position where if you are patient you can take that revenge yourself.”

The two princes looked at each other.  Robert finally took the seat across from Doran and waited as the brothers had an almost silent conversation.

Finally Doran looked back to Robert and reached a hand out to him, “For Elia and her children.”

Robert nodded solemnly and shook Doran’s hand, “For Elia and her children.”

~~

The birth of the heir to the throne was heralded by many celebrations.  Robert’s reign hadn’t been quiet leading up to Joffrey’s birth.  Upon his return from Dorne he’d had the small council enact the laws he’d outlined to Jon before he’d left.  While he’d been away in Dorne, Lord Arryn had sent ravens to the Citadel and collected many maesters research and words of wisdom to use to back up Robert’s assertion that the Targaryen madness was a direct result of 300 years of inbreeding possibly more as the 7 kingdoms didn’t have records from before Aegon’s conquest.

Varys had sent his birds far and wide to spread stories from behind the façade of a perfect marriage Elia and Rhaegar presented to the world always making sure to present Elia as the victim underserving of her treatment by Rhaegar and his father.  The birds built on the stories already flying about Lyanna and Rhaegar, made their sins real and imagined all that more despicable when it was reminded that their story came at the cost of a real woman and her two children.  That was what they wanted kept in the minds of the people.  They didn’t want them to think kindly on the former Targaryen king and crown prince, and they didn’t want the people to yearn for Viserys to come back and claim the crown.

Stories were spread about Viserys himself, he’d been kept from public eye for most of his infancy and early childhood before supporters had spirited him away from Dragonstone.  Building on the stories of Aerys and Rhaegar it was easy enough to build up childhood tantrums and rages into whispers of potential warning signs of Targaryen madness.  Much more was made of the saying that when a Targaryen was born the gods flip a coin until every person from the poorest of small folk to the noblest of lords was nodding their heads in agreement that the realm couldn’t afford a trueborn Targaryen on the throne again.

On the other side Robert went out of his way to appear more of a genial and gracious king.  Aerys had left a very rich treasury so he started using that money to repair some of the damage done by the wars as well as host tourneys and celebrations to benefit the people.  He cut taxes for 5 years on the Riverlands, Dorne and the Stormlands, while raising taxes for 5 years on the North, Reach and Casterly Rock.  He made grand speeches about not punishing the children for the sins of their fathers and allowed the children of those who had died in the rebellion to assume the heads of their houses with minimal repercussions save if they were children ensuring that their castellans and advisors were loyal to him.  He used Elia Martell and her children as a rallying cry across Westeros that women and children should not suffer for the wars of men, for the wars they had no part in.  He even went so far as to bequeath Dragonstone to Jon, Viserys and Daenerys Targaryen.  He gave a grand speech about how they were merely children caught in the affairs of men and so long as they did not plot treason against his reign he would not condemn them for the crimes of their parents and caretakers.

In secret he had his men attempting to locate the Targaryen children to return them to Westeros.  Raising them in Westeros in the new regime he was trying to create.  Having the displaced children raised to be loyal to him would be coup beyond measure and one even Varys for all his simpering had thought was an excellent step.  Have children hunted down and murdered would just reinstate the hatred the people already had for his reign but bringing the children back to Westeros well that just solidified him as better than his processor.

~~

The first time Jon hears his mother called a whore he’s unaware it’s his mother the merchants are talking about.  He and Ser Arthur are currently in Tyrosh.  His mother and Ser Oswell had already set out for Bravos where rumors had reached them that Jon’s aunt and uncle had been taken and hidden by Ser William Dary.  He and Ser Arthur are to journey at a later date and meet them in Bravos but both of his guardians had agreed that it was better to change their travel composition in case anyone was on the lookout for 4 traveling companions they might be thrown off by two groups of two.

His mother hadn’t wanted to leave him, she’d argued and wept and yelled words that at 4 Jon hadn’t completely understood, but eventually she’d agreed to leave with Ser Oswell.  He’d tried to be brave as a true king must be when he’d wished his mother good bye.  He must have done well because Ser Arthur had commended his comportment said he behaved as a good king aught and as a treat he’d allowed Jon to come with him to the market.

This was the first time Jon had been allowed outside the manse that had been their home.  His young eyes were wide as they took everything in.  The market was so busy, there were people everywhere.  Tall people short people, painted people, when Jon frowned and stepped towards one of the veiled painted women talking in front of a two story home, Ser Arthur chuckled and tightened his grip on Jon’s hand, “Stay close to me my young dragon.”

Once in the market Jon’s eyes went wide in an attempt to take in all the sights.  The smells were heady and made him sneeze a few times as well.  Cooking meat, perfumes and incense, the sweat of man all combined to make an odor unique to the Tyroshi Market.  He’s so distracted by all the sights and smells that as the market place got more crowded he forgot to hold as tightly to Ser Arthur as he really ought to have.  Suddenly there were hundreds of people between him and his guardian and he couldn’t see.  Fear floods his small body as he’s jostled this way and that trying to find his way clear to try to find Ser Arthur.  Voices accented similarly to Ser Oswell and Ser Arthur catch his attention.

“Newly minted from Lannisport,” a merchant is haggling holding up gold ornaments to the inspection of another man.  “I brought them here to sell hoping to get a better price.  King Robert’s taxes on Casterly Rock and Lannisport means anything I make I pay the majority of it back to the capital.”

His companion snorted softly fingering one of the baubles, “That’s what happens when your lord can’t keep control of his troops.”  The man lifted a fine gold amulet from the tray to look closer, “You got his with higher taxes and the North got his with higher taxes because their whore of a daughter couldn’t keep her legs closed.”

The merchant’s sales smile tightened into a grimace, “Ah well do you like the necklace crafted by one of the finest jewelers in Lannisport.  It opens perfect for keeping a lock of your lady loves hair.”

The red haired man who was built similarly opened his mouth to respond when he caught sight of Jon.  Recognition and shock flit over the man’s face.  Jon wasn’t sure why as he’d never seen the man in his life.  He set the necklace down and slowly approached Jon, blue eyes darting around the crowd surrounding Jon as if looking for someone.  “Are you lost little Lord?”

Fear which had been temporarily abated by the curiosity of hearing people with accents like his guardians came flooding back.  Tears welled up in grey eyes but he blinked them back trying to remind himself that kings don’t cry.  The man went to one knee before him so that their eyes were level.  Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell’s words about trusting no one ran through his head, but the truth of the matter he was lost so he nodded.

The man smiled gently at him, “No worries little lord.  I’ll get you home.”

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So who found Jon? Will he take Jon back to Arthur or somewhere else? Sorry this chapter focused mainly on Robert but I kinda needed to set up some of the changes in Westeros before I went through the changes that their childhoods are going to be going through. Thank you guys again for all the great feedback I adored each and every review. Next chapter will be all about the differences in growing up for Jon, Sansa and to my surprise Mycella but with the changes to Robert she wound up getting a slightly different childhood as well and it wasn’t just the fact that she’s gonna be betrothed to Quentyn not Trystane since birth and has a future as Lady of Casterly Rock but….well there will be a couple of other changes. Yes I’m playing with the Dorne storyline instead of a pact with William Dary and marriage between Arianne and Viserys there’s a pact with Robert and generic marriage contract regarding the future of Casterly Rock. Yes this will be important in the future, not immediate future but the future none the less. Arya’s childhood differences won’t actually be too noticeable personality wise until after we get into the show events so please bare that in mind when we dive into next week’s chapter. Love you all!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jon learns a bit of his Westeros heritage and two daughters are born.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So going into this chapter I want you all to realize it came out of my own realization that in order for certain things to occur, Daenerys and Viserys’s storylines not to change over much, Jon’s personality to not become Viserys 2.0 or perhaps more to the fact a male Daenerys I needed to delay their meeting. I couldn’t have Oswell and Arthur find Dany and Viserys before William Dary died, I needed a reason to delay and I needed something to keep Jon off balance to put doubts in his mind about the things Arthur and Lyanna teach him, about the belief that Targaryen’s are special and above the little people that Daenerys believes and Arthur buys into not to mention give Jon a more valid grounding in Westeros education. All I needed then was a Westeros exile who would want to get in good with the new regime by bringing back Jon, someone whose spent time with Rhaegar’s other children to recognize Jon on sight and since I already planned on nixing the Aegon/F!Aegon/Griff storyline anyways Jon Connington filled that role quite nicely. Also for this story I’m changing Jon’s backstory just slightly as well as the location of Griffin’s Roost. Griffin’s Roost and Rook’s Rest are changing locations just swapping spots which means Jon Connington is a Riverlander instead of a Stormslander. I did this in part because I wanted Connington’s keep to be close to Dragonstone so he could in effect run both keeps.

**Chapter 2:**

Jon was terrified but doing his best not to show it.  The red haired man who had found him on Tyrosh had been quick to take him away from the market.   Jon didn’t remember much about the last few days in Tyrosh or the first few days on the ship.  Later in his life Jon would realize he’d likely been drugged with milk of the poppy to make him more compliant but as a child he just believed his fear made his memory funny.  None of that compared to the terror that gripped him now as he and the man waited to be announced to the throne room.

The man who had introduced himself as Jon Connington knelt in front of him to adjust the new tunic splendidly embroidered with the red three headed dragon sigil of House Targaryen.  “I know your mother and Ser Arthur have filled your head with all sorts of stories but you have nothing to fear.”

Jon forces his hands to stop quaking, he mustn’t show fear in front of the enemy.  This man stole him from his mother and guardians brought him before the usurper who is sure to kill him as he killed his siblings.  He’s only 4 name days old but he can be brave, he’s a dragon.  The door opens and they are announced inside.  Grey eyes find the powerful man who sits on the throne made of swords.  The throne he’s only heard stories about.  The monster of his nightmares confuses him for he looks like an ordinary man.

Perhaps not truly ordinary, Jon rethinks as the man stands from the throne.  He’s tall, this man that Ser Arthur rages and calls the usurper, taller than Arthur with eyes of stormy blue and wild black curls.  In the future when he thinks about how a king should look or behave, it wouldn’t be a fantasy of his father Rhaegar or legends of Aegon the Conqueror but instead it would be to this man to whom his thoughts would first turn.

“Welcome back to Westeros Ser Jon,” the usurper booms out his voice filling the hall as he stepped to the edge of the dais.  Jon Connington went to one knee next to him.

“Your grace, may I present Jonnel Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone.”

Jon’s knees quaked but he executed a small bow as Ser Jon had told him he should.  The dark man’s face remained grave but he imagined that the man’s blue eyes warmed slightly.  “Welcome home young lord.  We are pleased to have you returned to your proper place.  You will take your place on Dragonstone where Edrick Poole has been acting as Steward for the past year in hopes that one day you’d be able to return.”  The king’s attention shifted to his companion, “Ser Connington, your inheritance was stripped from you when you were exiled by King Aerys and then your cousins sided with King Aerys in the war so the majority of your family’s fortune and property were confiscated and redistributed to more loyal families save Griffin’s Roost.”  The red haired man went so still beside Jon he almost thought he might have been made of marble.  “I reward loyalty Ser Connington and I would reward you should you serve me loyally.  Return with Lord Targaryen to Dragonstone, work with Master Poole as his guardian.  Teach him the ways of Westeros and how to be a loyal and true Lord and in 10 years if he returns to King’s landing and swears fealty to me and the lordship is yours once again.”

“Your grace this kindness,” Ser Jon’s voice trembled, “I cannot,” he shook his head.  A heavy set man wearing robes and long chains shuffled onto the dais and up to the king then before Ser Jon could finish his thought.  The man leaned down to whispered something into the king’s ear that caused the king to nod.

“You can and you will Lord Connington,” the king said with a wave of his hand to halt Ser Jon’s declamations.  “Griffin’s Roost is only a day’s journey from Dragonstone so it should be easy for you to act as de facto Lord of the keep until the day comes for you to take the role permanently.  I would heartily recommend finding some time in between teaching the young lordling sword fighting and managing two keeps to get yourself a wife and secure your own legacy.  Legacies,” he boomed out with a hearty laugh, “I’m told are very important as my wife is now in labor with our second child.”  His blue eyes sparkled with mirth and his lips lifted in a wry grin, “I give you leave to make the journey to Dragonstone.”  Both Jon and Ser Jon bowed to the king.  As Jon rose up his grey eyes went to the king again awestruck by how different he was from how he’d been taught, “Learn fast and learn well my young Lord Targaryen you have quite a legacy yourself you will need to remake.”

~~

The godswood was quiet as Lord Eddard Stark sat in front of the heart tree and polished his sword.  Ice had been in his family for centuries since before the conquest.  The monotonous task of caring for the sword allowed him relief from the constant worry of his wife in the birthing bed.  This was the first time the gods had been kind since they had returned to Winterfell.  They had allowed themselves to hope twice previously and then the sheets had run red with blood before Catelyn had entered her 5th month.  Now with this babe she had made it full term and Maester Luwin had told him when he’d notified him that his lady wife’s birthing pains had started that it looked as though all would be well this time.

Winter had come suddenly two years previous, just after the birth of the crown prince though none speculated on that too loudly.  Less than a fortnight after the ravens announcing the birth of the crown prince to the seven kingdoms the citadel had sent out the white ravens announcing the start of winter.  Now two years later the granaries and larders were starting to run empty and the Northern Lords were writing to him for advice on what to do.  Relations with the southern lords were still tenuous at best and fraught at worst.  Less than 6 moons ago one of the Glover bannerman had gotten into a fist fight south of the neck while escorting lumber for trade and sale.  Apparently he’d taken offense to a song that had been sung at an inn the men had taken rest at for the night and attempted to liberate the minstrel of his tongue.

Things might not have been so bad if the minstrel hadn’t been the pampered favorite of one of Tywin Lannister’s many cousins.  In the end he’d been forced to send the man to the Wall.  3 years since the end of the war, soon to be 4 and the south still held the north responsible for Lyanna’s actions.  The north’s anger towards Lyanna had been tempered by his sister’s good sense to not return or send communication of any kind but the resentment towards her still ran deep.

The sound of bells ringing through Winterfell pulled him from his thoughts.  The sound grew louder and seemed to grow more joyous as the bells of Wintertown rose to join them.  Branches cracked loudly and the snow shifted, grey eyes pierced through the gloom that had fallen on the godswood to see the fur wrapped form of his friend and steward Vanyon Poole.  “A daughter my lord.  A healthy baby girl.  Maester Luwin states mother and child are doing well.”

Ned’s heart froze in his chest.  The one thing he feared most in the world, a daughter.  A daughter to betray him and her brother the way his sister had betrayed him and their father.  A daughter he feared not being able to teach well enough, control well enough, educate well enough, the way his father had failed Lyanna so.  The world was a treacherous place for a woman especially one who wasn’t taught to mind her place, to know the consequences she courted when she flouted tradition, the danger she placed others in when she laughed in the face of expectations.  He forced a smile to his lips as he rose to his feet to embrace his steward and accept his congratulations on the birth of a healthy child.  “We shall name her Sansa,” he stated softly but firmly.  “Sansa Stark,” he said again this time more to himself as he walked back towards the castle.  She would be named for the daughter of the north who when faced with the choice of marrying her own uncle or inciting a civil war among her family she choose to marry her uncle.  A Stark daughter and Northern Girl through and through even if, he would think later as he held his babe for the first time, she, like her brother before her, had her mother’s red curls and perhaps would have a more southern look as she grew.  She would be a true Northern girl but she would never be allowed to forget her place in society or what her duty was.

His wife’s words came to him then, ‘Family, Duty, Honor.’  Hopefully Catelyn would be helpful in keeping this little one and any other daughter the gods might bless them with well aware of their duty to family and their duty to honor.

~~

It never ceased to surprise Robert how different his two legitimate children were.  All of his illegitimate children loved him and loved when they got to see him.  From his first, little dark haired Maya, to his most recent, violet eyed Edric they all cooed at him and never cried when he held them.  Joffrey never wanted to be held by his father or spend time with his father.  His son who looked so like his mother in every way screamed if Robert so much as got too close to his crib in the first few months of his life.  A part of him feared that this was the price he must pay for being the cause for the death of two innocents that his legitimate children would loath the sight of him.

The fear stayed with him as he traversed the halls to the Queen’s chambers several hours after the news that the Queen had delivered a healthy baby girl had been received by him.  He had been in the palace there hadn’t been any reason why he couldn’t have gone to see her right away but he’d been scared that his newest child would react to him the way Joffrey had reacted to him.  A bigger man he took up almost the whole door frame as he froze in the archway leading to Cersei’s private bedchamber.  Reminding himself that he was king of the seven kingdoms and he wouldn’t be frightened of a wee babe he took a deep breath and entered.

The midwives had already cleaned Cersei and the babe up, the bloodied linens removed to another portion of the castle to be tossed away or washed to see if there was anything worth salvaging.  His wife gave him her show smile, the one that didn’t reach her eyes when he entered, “Wife, I hear we have a daughter.”

“Yes, a beautiful blond haired princess,” Cersei said her tone a touch too sweet, her green eyes dancing as if with a secret he wasn’t privy too.

Robert moved towards the cradle carefully so as not to startle his newest child and peered down into the crib.  His wife had spoken the truth they had a blond haired princess yet at the same time her coloring was different than Joffrey’s.  He reached on big hand down into the cradle.  Cersei jerked in her bed as if she intended to say something or do something to prevent him from touching his daughter but subsided at a stern look from her father.  Rough fingers gently stroked baby fine hair so pale a blond it was almost white against the baby’s rosy cheeks.  “Have you named her yet,” his voice was gravel as he looked at his daughter.  Valyrian blond a small portion of mind whispered, like portraits of his grandmother Rhaelle Targaryen.  Perhaps they could name her after his grandmother.

“Myrcella,” his wife said coolly.  Of course Cersei would name the girl already.  She named Joffrey before he had a chance to even process that he had a son and heir so of course she would name his daughter before he could even meet her.

“Myrcella,” he said as his fingertips drifted softly over one downy cheek.  At his touch the babe opened her eyes.  Her eyes were still the deep blue all newborns had and a secret part of his heart hoped that they simply lightened to the Baratheon Blue of his own eyes instead of changing completely to the green of her brother and mother.  Robert braced himself for her to scream but instead the baby began to coo which drew a smile from him as he gave in to the urge to lift the babe out of the crib and cradle her in his arms.  “Myrcella Rhea Baratheon,” he said firmly.  His eyes went to meet Cersei’s again, “I would have preferred to name her after my grandmother, especially now that I’ve seen her and see that she shares my grandmother’s valyrian coloring but Myrcella is a pretty name too.”  He smiled broadly at his wife, “It appears my grandmother’s valyrian genes won out against your Lannister gold this time but perhaps there’s still time for my Baratheon blue eyes to beat out the green,” his eyes went back to his daughter and so missed the sudden paling of his wife’s face and the shock of surprise entering her green eyes.

~~

“And which is this my young lord,” the young blond maester fresh out of the citadel pointing to an area on the large engraved table.

The dark haired boy’s grey eyes furrowed in concentration as he surveyed the area, “The Riverlands.”

“House sigil?”

“A trout,” Jon said cautiously.

The maester smiled and nodded enthusiastically, “Current ruling family and house words?”

“House Tully,” he said softly looking down at his hands uncertainly, “Family, duty honor?”

“Very good little Lord,” the maester said with a proud smile.  He’d been tutoring the boy in Westerosi history for the past 5 years as well as serving as Maester for House Targaryen and Dragonstone keep.  A decent posting and far better than he had expected freshly graduated from the Citadel.  It helped that the boy was very bright and eager to learn though often confused by certain details especially those surrounding the rebellion that had led to the unseating of his house and the crowning of house Baratheon.  The maester wasn’t sure of his place so had decided to leave the in depth explanation of the politics for later in the young Lord’s tutelage.  He around to the other side and tapped the table again, “And here?”

“The North,” he said his voice a lot more confident and his grey eyes sparked with enthusiasm.  “The ruling family are the Starks they are seated at Winterfell.”

“Very good little lord,” he said proudly, “house sigil and words.”

“A direwolf,” Jon said, “house words The North Remembers.”

A chuckle from the door stopped the maester from reprimanding Jon though he knew from the shaking of the Maester’s head that he was wrong about something.  Jon Connington stepped into the room, “Very common northern words lad especially if you’ve been hanging with Steward Poole which I suspect you have,” the red haired man said with a wink.

As if summoned by his name Edrick Poole came into the room next, his normally ruddy northern features pale a raven scroll clutched in his hand.  “A raven from the King’s Hand Lord Arryn.”

Connington’s smile faded, “What news put such a look on your face,” he question giving the steward’s hand a light squeeze before taking the scroll.

“Rebellion.”

~~

The battle was heated.  The iron born slaughtered everyone they came across regardless if they were warrior or not.  Lord Eddard Stark wielded his Valyrian great sword with skill and vengeance.  The Northern soldiers fighting to defend the Neck and the entry to their homeland with every breath they had.

Robert Baratheon despite being king of the 7 kingdoms led his men into the thick of the battle.  His war hammer swung one way then the other.  Every time the hammer swung more Iron Born fell before it.  He laughed, “Come on you cowards.”  Robert’s grin was mean and fierce and he advanced further into the thick of the fighting.

Suddenly the fighting tide turned.  Robert was separated from his king’s guard.  The Iron Born smiled grimly, “The King protect your king,” Ned shouted desperately fighting to get to his friend’s side.  Mud flew as men died and men were victorious over their foes.

Horns sounded and the tide turned once again.  Lord Connington led reinforcements from Dragonstone to aid the royal forces and the Northern forces and finally the Iron Born began to fall back.  Ned still couldn’t see Robert through the mass of fighting bodies.  Where was Robert?  Where was the king?

~~

Darkness fell over Dragonstone as the two men deftly alit from the boat.  Their information advised them that all the fighting men had left to assist the usurpers army in putting down the Iron Born.  For the first time in five years they finally had a chance to regain control of their king.  The usurper had five years to fill their king with lies about his family and heritage, Ser Arthur supposed they should be grateful that the usurper hadn’t killed him the way he’d had Aegon and Rhaenys killed.

Oswell and Arthur slipped through the keep silent as ghosts.  Any who they came across fell to their blades.  They would not be stopped.  One gave them more of a fight.  He was fierce and it was almost a pity to run his sword through him.  “You won’t win,” the man said as he fell, “the little lord has too much wolf in him to be a true dragon.”

Arthur shook his head in true pity down at the man who bled out before him.  He waved Oswell into the room they were fairly certain were being used to keep their King.  Oswell ducked into the darkened room his eyes swiftly scanning the shadows for other guards.  After he was certain the room was empty save the boy asleep on the bed he strode forward swiftly, “Your grace you must wake up.”

Jon was dreaming of wolves and dragons.  At first the wolves and the dragons fought on the same side until suddenly the dragon turned on the wolf and tried to burn it.  He whimpered as his arms tightened around the petrified dragon egg he’d found during one of his explorations of his keep.  Oswell’s voice intruded on the dream and dragged him back to wakefulness.  “Ser Oswell?”

“Yes your grace.  We must go, hurry.”

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo a bit different. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It’s not quite as much of their childhood as I wanted but I wanted to post before the Holiday as I have family coming up and I’m not sure how much time I’m going to have to write for the next week or so. Any one catch the small Easter egg spoiler? I dropped a few of them. Hope you all have an amazing 4th of July if you are American if not I hope you all have a great week. Drop me a comment with what you liked. As I work at plotting this series out I’m starting to try to figure out which canon plot points I want to keep and which ones I want to change completely. One of the things I’m not sure about yet is when or if Sansa is going to leave King’s landing after Ned’s death. I have a couple of different ideas going but they are completely different directions and would take this story in completely different ways so I have to figure out which way I’m going to go. If you wanna chat with me about the story or anything else my tumblr is @farmgirlusa.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another small snapshot into the childhoods of Sansa, Jon and Myrcella as we edge closer to canon events. Also you get Lyanna's version of events for what led to Robert's rebellion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always I’m blown away but the responses to my story. I know a lot of you were disappointed by how soon Jon was rescued. Unfortunately that was always the plan once I decided Jon was going to be dragged to Westeros for a bit just as Jon was never going to meet Ned. Not only were Ned and Robert still not on the best of terms at that point it wouldn’t have looked good for Ned when his nephew inevitably went missing if he had contact with him. So basically despite a minor wish on my own part and a half written out scene where Ned and 4 year old Sansa came to Dragonstone and visited Jon it just didn’t fit with where I was going with this story. So here’s a chapter I know a lot of people have been waiting for with a lot of insight into the girl’s childhoods. One of the things I think is fairly clear more in the books where we see more Northern culture than in the show the North and the South raise their children very differently. The Stark children had a more southern raising in part because of their southern mother and their father’s indulgence of her. One of the things the books make fairly clear is that daughters in the north might not be given the exact same education as their brothers but they are given a lot more comprehensive education in regards to weaponry, tactics, and leadership. In the books we see that evident in Alys Karstark, the Mormont women, Lady Barbrey Dustin and the Manderly girls. The show doesn’t highlight the differences too often but in the last season the only named Lady we see taking residence in the crypts is Sansa. Alys has a bow and goes with the Iron Born, Lyanna stands with her men and we all know where Arya was.  
> Also Small Warning for non graphic violence and gore at the end of this chapter.

**Chapter 3**

Returning to Essos and life on the run was a hard adjustment to make.  Life in Dragonstone had been hard away from his mother and the only family he knew but at the same time he’d never had to worry about assassins or where he was going to sleep one night to the next.  For all the accusations and slander his guardians and mother heaped on Robert Baratheon the man had given him the first real security Jon had ever had in his life.  Arriving in Bravos his mother had sobbed in joy as she wrapped her arms around him.

“Oh my Jon, my sweet boy,” Lyanna sobbed as she peppered kisses over his hair and face.  She drew back to look him up and down grey eyes so similar to his own taking in the differences between his 9 name day self, compared to the 4 name day son she had lost.  “Look how big you’ve grown,” was sighed into his dark curls as his mother hugged him tight against her.  Jon hugged her back.  He’d missed his mother deeply while at Dragonstone.  While they were often separated during their travels through Essos before he’d been taken to Westeros it was always with the knowledge that they would see each other again soon.  When he’d been taken to Westeros he hadn’t known when or even if he’d see his mother again.

Ser Oswell led them into the small manse.  They were advised that they could settle there for a bit.  The Greyjoy rebellion was a boon for them.  It meant that it would be a while before anyone was apt to notice Jon was gone and even if they did notice him gone they wouldn’t be able to manage the resources to track him easily.  Oswell advises them that Arthur was out tracking down information on the whereabouts of the other Targaryens, his aunt and uncle.  The talk about Viserys and Daenerys reminded Jon of some of the troubling things he’d been told on Dragonstone about his Grandfather Aerys.

“Mother,” he asked approaching Lyanna, “Why was my family thrown out of Westeros?  What caused the rebellion?”  His mother looked at him, her grey eyes uncertain so he continued trying to explain, “It’s just you and Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell have always told me about the Usurper and how he’s a brutish unjust man, who murdered my father and saw to the slaughter of my brother and sister, but I never understood how if we are the rightful rulers the common folk stood for it, why they didn’t rise up against him.  Why was the usurper allowed to get away with rebelling against his lawful king?”

Lyanna sighed, “I’d hoped to wait till you were older but I guess you saw and heard things in Westeros that confused you?”

“They said grandfather was a mad man that unjustly executed his lords and father was a man who selfishly cared more for his own wants and desires than for the needs of his people or for his country.”

Lyanna shook her head, “Of course they would make up lies to justify their war,” she sighed again and looked off into the distance.  “It’s true your grandfather could be cruel and he did many unjust things and declared it justice but your father was working out ways to protect his people all of them.  Unfortunately the ties between the North and the Throne have always been loose and with the loss of the dragons they became even looser so much that your father wasn’t sure if he could count on your grandfather Rickard to fight with him when he tried to oust Aerys from power.  He needed something to tie the North to him.  Your father had already married Princess Elia, a political match arranged for him by his father and one that had provided him with two children, Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon.  The tourney at Harrenhall changed things.  I disguised myself as a boy and participated in the jousts and your father figured out my ruse but swore to hide my secret after I explained why.  I’ll admit I fell a little bit in love with him then.  He was so handsome and honorable and he swore he would find some way to honor me for my bravery.  He crowned me the Queen of Love and Beauty over his wife.  I was betrothed by my father to Robert Baratheon, then Lord of Storm’s End but I wasn’t in love with him and I didn’t have a very high opinion of him.  He spent the tourney participating in the Melee or drunk,” here a small sneer entered her voice, “it was well known that he had a bastard daughter in the vale and that he didn’t hinder himself in the bed area.  I was disgusted by this man that my father intended for me to wed, this southerner who couldn’t be true to his betrothed, who drank and fought, and was loud and crude.  Your father approached me and asked for my help.  He told me in return he would insure that I would never have to marry Robert Baratheon.  I jumped at the chance so with the help of Ser Arthur and Ser Oswell they helped me escape from my guardians at Harrenhall.  I would be his key to the north.  We wed in Dorne with the blessings from the faith,” Lyanna’s grey eyes looked down shadowed, “I would be his second wife but we couldn’t just announce our marriage.  The North doesn’t hold the faith of the 7.  Their way is the old way.  My father wouldn’t accept our marriage and as lord paramount of the North he would be well within his rights to demand the marriage to be annulled so we had to remain hidden until we were sure that I was with child.  A child with the blood of both houses would prevent the match from being dissolved.”

Jon took his mother’s hand in his and squeezed it to give her comfort, “We didn’t count on Robert perceiving my going missing as an insult against him.  He called his banners and declared war against house Targaryen.  I’m told that my father died just before Robert called his banners so I can only imagine that Brandon with all his hot headedness called the Northern banners as well.  The worst part is no one expected them to win.”  Lyanna shook her head slightly a small tear sliding down her cheek as she thought about that dark time, “Robert killed your father on the battlefield and when we got that news we knew we had to flee.  It was on the boat to Myr that the news of the rest of the horrors that Robert Baratheon and his turn cloak army visited upon King’s Landing reached us.”  Lyanna drew her son into her arms again for another hug, “That is why you will eventually have to return to Westeros not as a hostage lord but as King to ride the country of that Tyrant who was willing to tear the country apart because a woman dared to tell him no.”

Neither of them noticed Ser Oswell standing in the doorway listening to Lyanna’s recantation of the story.  None noticed the confusion in his eyes that slowly became understanding.  He moved to enter the room only to be stopped by a recently returned Arthur Dayne who shook his head at him.

“I thought you told her,” Oswell murmured to his fellow knight as Arthur pulled him back from the room and possible being overheard by the mother and son.

“What good would telling her the truth about her father and brother do her now?”  Arthur’s eyes were cool and determined, “Everything else is true Rhaegar needed Lyanna to tie the North to him and Robert rebelled to get Lyanna back.”

Oswell frowned, “It’s also true that Aerys issued a death warrant out on Robert and Eddard Stark for treason before the man rebelled.  I don’t support the usurper any more than you but I wish Rhaegar had made smarter choices in his plan to overthrow his father or worked faster.  Had Rhaegar overthrown his father and presented with two wives Robert wouldn’t have dared contest it as you well know and he certainly wouldn’t have rebelled just because he lost his betrothed.”

Arthur shook his head, “It matters little as that didn’t happen, the rebellion was already in full swing and Robert killed Rhaegar on the Trident that is all that matters now.”  With that he brushed past Oswell to go in to see Lyanna and Jon and discuss the information he’d found about where the missing Targaryen’s might currently be.

Oswell remained where he was for a long moment his eyes staring off into the distance as he questioned not for the first time whether some of the decisions made during the war, some of the decisions they made now were in fact the right decisions.  ‘Jon,’ he loved that boy as if he was his own son he couldn’t abandon him.

 

~~

 

Robert came back to consciousness with a groan.  Everything hurt.  At the first sign of him being awake there was commotion around him.  Calls going out for water, milk of the poppy and all sorts of other inane things.  He groaned as the noise increased the pain in his skull.

“Enough,” growled a familiar voice.  “Your chattering would be enough to give a healthy man a head ache.  Send a raven to Lord Arryn in King’s Landing and advise him that the King is awake and looks to be making a full recovery.”  The commotion stirred again then lessened.

Robert opened his eyes to meet the grey orbs of his former best friend, “Ned,” he rasped out licking his dry lips.  His former foster brother immediately poured a mug of water out and brought it to him to sip.  His throat moistened he continued.  “Did we win?”

“Aye your grace, Balon Greyjoy is currently imprisoned here at Moat Cailin awaiting your judgement,” Ned said.

“Knock it off with that horse shit Ned,” Robert grumbled out, “I don’t need you your gracing me.”

Ned’s lips quirked into a small smirk and Robert was suddenly struck by the resemblance to Jon.   It gave him hope for the future maybe the kid had more of his honorable uncle in him than his dishonorable father or his traitorous mother.  “As my King commands,” Ned said, “I live only to serve after all.”

Robert groaned and grumbled under his breath causing Ned to chuckle softly, “Gods I ache.”

“You gave us all a scare,” Ned said his eyes solemn.  “We thought you were dead.”

Robert chuckled, “It’ll take more than some squids to be the end of me.”  Robert sobered then looked Ned in the eye again, “It’s good that you’re here.  I’ve missed you.”

Ned smiled wryly back, “I’ve missed you too.”

The men spent a few minutes reminiscing about their boyhood in the Vale and discussing their children.  Robert bragged about his daughter Myrcella and how she made him rethink so much about his life.  “Daughters change a man.”

“Aye, I have two now,” Ned agreed his thoughts racing back to Winterfell and his youngest children.  His wife had been pregnant again when he had left to fight in the rebellion.  He wondered if he had a second son or a third daughter.

The men were interrupted from their discussions by Jon Connington bursting into the room.  The red haired man was holding a raven scroll and while his face seemed composed his eyes seemed to be panicked.  “I apologize your grace, My Lord,” Connington said with a bow, “I just received a raven from Dragonstone.  It’s been attacked.”

 

~~

 

Myrcella wandered the Red Keep.  It had been fairly easy to escape her Septa who had been distracted by another one of her brother’s tantrums.  She missed her father, he’d been gone for ages and no one would tell her when he was going to come back.  So Myrcella decided she would go look for him herself.  She had only gone a little ways before she started getting scared.  She had never gone outside of the nursery by herself before.

The halls seemed so much larger when she walked them without her Septa.  Her blue eyes were wide as they darted from one wall to the other.  One plump finger went into her mouth and she sucked on it as she wandered.  Anytime it appeared she might encounter somebody she darted behind a pillar or a statue to hide.  Each room she looked into had no sign of her father.  Her rosebud lips became more set into a pout as she was continually disappointed in finding her father.

A sigh expelled itself from her lungs as she reached yet another room that didn’t have her father in it.  She stood there pouting in the doorway far longer than perhaps she should have.  “Princess what are you doing out and about without your Septa, your mother or a guard?”

Myrcella jumped and then hunched her shoulders before sneaking a peak over the right one to see who had caught her.  “Lord Arryn,” She said a smile blossoming onto her face at the sight of the older man.  Lord Arryn was really nice and would sometimes sneak her sweets when he visited the Nursery.  “I’m looking for Papa.  He hasn’t visited in a long time.  Papa always comes to visit.”

Lord Arryn smiled kindly down at the little girl before stooping to pick her up and hold her on his hip.  The royal children were all precious treasures, they had lost their second prince less than a month after his birth suddenly in his sleep.  They queen had miscarried twice more in the years following Myrcella’s birth.  The people were all thankful when her last pregnancy had ended with the birth of a healthy son who at two months of age still seemed to be healthy and thriving.  Jon Arryn could easily admit that Myrcella was his favorite.  The little girl with her blue eyes so like her father’s often made him think of the boy he’d fostered rather than the king he now served.  “Princess your papa is King of the Seven Kingdoms.  He sometimes has to leave to do the things he needs to in order to serve the realm.”

Myrcella frowned again her little baby teeth worrying her bottom lip, “Why can’t he serve the realm from here?  I miss him.”

“Oh little one I’m sure he misses you as well but he must be the king first just as you princess must attend to your lessons with your Septa and learn the duties you must attend to as a Princess of the realm,” Jon said one hand stroking through the little one’s silver blond hair.  The pair strode through the halls heading back to the nursery barely acknowledging any of the obeisance’s that were directed their way by the people they passed.

Myrcella was suitably distracted by what he had said as only a child of five could be, “What duties does a princess have?  Septa Rhialta says I must focus on learning to sew and memorize hymns and verses,” Myrcella looked down, “and manners Septa focuses on manners a lot.”

Jon chuckled, “I suppose at your age those would be things you should be learning.  As a princess of the realm you will always be a representative of the crown.  Any time you go out among the people you must be mindful of how you behave which is probably why your septa focuses so much on manners.”  At five that would be the most the young princess needed to know about her duties as a princess.  Eventually it would be explained to her about her duty to marry for the good of the realm and the possibility of her becoming queen distant though it might be right now with two brothers was still there.  When the child was older it would be explained to her all of the duties that would be much too confusing for one so young.

 

~~

 

Sansa Stark is eight name days old the first time she witnesses an execution.  The day is etched in her memory.  She along with her brother and sister had been practicing archery under the watchful eyes of their father and mother.  Her arrows rarely hit center of the target.  Arya at five was already a better archer than her much to the red head’s shame.  Archery was her least favorite of the lessons she was expected to learn as a daughter of the north.

Practically from the age she could start lessons it had been ingrained in her head what was expected of her as a daughter of the North.  Her mother tried to protest some of the more physical lessons but her father insisted.  Duty was strongly stressed to her and she tried to strive for perfection to the best of her ability it was unfortunate that her abilities didn’t seem to stretch to the more physical aspects.  She consoled herself that at least she never missed the target even when she was distracted as they all were when they saw Vanyon Poole approach their parents on the balcony above them.

The children were unable to hear exactly what was being discussed just murmurs.  At least the voices stayed murmurs until their father raised his voice, “My decision is final, and she will join us.  Winter is coming.”

Sansa felt a cold knot in her stomach.  There was no indication that they were talking about her but the feeling of foreboding was there.  It was proven true later when she was directed to join Rob in saddling her horse to follow her father and her father’s ward out of the keep.  The ride was done in silence, and Sansa was very conscious of being the sole female among the group of men.  The arrived at a clearing where a group of her father’s bannerman had a man dressed in what appeared to be black rags in chains.  The blood drained from Sansa’s face as she realized what she was going to be witnessing today.  “Father,” she whispered blue eyes darting to the man she admired most in her life a plea in her voice.

Her father spared her a small glance before shaking his head then indicating they all dismount.  Sansa did so with trembling legs fear creating an icy pit in her stomach.  She didn’t want to watch this.  A man beheaded, their way was the old way, and her fingers shook so Sansa laced them together to keep them still.  Father stood before the man and heard his last words.  It was hard to hear her father over the roaring in her ears, she turned her head to the side in an attempt to not look.  Her father must have anticipated that because the next thing she knew Theon Greyjoy stepped up behind her and forced her head forward again.  Blue eyes met Stark grey, father’s eyes cool and determined.  Once father was sure both Sansa and Rob were watching he continued on pronouncing the sentence then swinging the sword.  The man’s head hit the ground with a solid thump and Sansa felt her vision grey briefly as blood spattered the summer snow on the ground around the body.

Sansa barely felt Theon’s hands leave her head before she was stumbling to a nearby tree and violently voiding her stomach of all its contents.  Tears were running down her cheeks and it took her a moment to realize she was sobbing as she threw up everything it seemed she’d eaten that day.  A strong hand massaged her neck soothingly, “You did well sweet one.  The first one is always the hardest,” father said as he drew Sansa back into the comfort of his arms.

“Why, Father, why did I have to come,” Sansa sobbed out.

Father sighed softly one hand stroking the vibrant red braid, “You are a daughter of the north and one day I will make a match for you to a good and strong north man.  It will be your duty in your husband’s absence to run your keep and if necessary see justice meted out.”  He drew back to look Sansa in the eyes, “You may never be strong enough to wield the sword Sansa but it will still be your duty to look the man you condemn to death in the eye as his sentence is passed.  Our way is the old way.”

“Our way is the old way,” Sansa repeated softly calming slightly as her tears slowed.  “The man who passes the sentence must swing the sword.”

“Yes Sansa.  All actions have consequences.  Even an action you think might be inconsequential,” Father said as he stared into Sansa’s eyes.  “Do you understand sweetling?”

Sansa nodded softly, “Yes father.”  Father nodded back then handed her a small dagger.  “What is this for father?”

“You are eight name days old Sansa and have seen your first execution.  You will never be trained to wield a sword as your brothers will all one day be trained but you will be trained to defend yourself.  This is for you starting tomorrow you will have lessons in how to use it,” Father said.

The girl she’d been just that morning would have groaned at having another lesson that was more physical based rather than intellectual based added into her schedule.  Sansa who had witnessed her first example of Northern Justice had grown up a little bit more since then, “I will do my best to make you proud.”

“My sweet girl, you make me proud every day.  What I want you to do is learn well so that should the worst ever happen you can defend yourself,” Father said as he pressed a kiss to her forehead then helped her back onto her horse so they could return to Winterfell.

 

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So……..yeah that’s where I’m going to end it because I think I’m going to jump right into canon events next. My Sansa as you can tell is definitely going to be different than canon Sansa at least in certain ways. I’ve always felt that Sansa was a creature of duty and since it was likely drummed into her head that she was destined to make a good match from a young age she focused her dreams on those types of things to make that life more palatable. Sansa is going to be still the quieter daughter and the one closest to her mother as she is still going to be the one who excels at southern graces and courtesies but at the same time she’s going to lack a lot of the romanticism that canon Sansa has. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. I honestly wasn’t expecting to finish it this weekend. Do not get used to getting 2 chapters in a week this will likely never happen again. As always I love any feedback you can give me.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another small drabble as we step closer to canon events.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright peeps this should be the last chapter before we get to canon events that occur during season 1 of Game of Thrones and book 1 of A Song of Ice and Fire. I just want to touch on a couple of things. People seem to get really upset with Lyanna in the last chapter. While not surprising I would like to stress that I see her very much a mix of Sansa and Arya a romantic dreamer with the gumption to put some of her more foolish ideas into practice. Sansa might dream and romanticize about elopements and such but she would never actually run off with someone, on the other hand Arya might run off with no word at the drop of a hat but not for some romantically foolish notion as being the heroine of a tale. Lyanna thought of herself as being the heroine of a tale bringing the North to Rhaegar but just a wedding wouldn’t work as her father would never have accepted her as a second wife so they had to remain hidden until she was obviously pregnant. She’d viewing her position as key to the north far more romantically at the moment than Sansa ever did in canon once she realized what her marriage truly meant. So please remember that Lyanna was young and naïve and is looking at the situation with rose colored glasses. She’s thinking she was being heroic using herself to tie the north to Rhaegar’s cause. Basically view her as a Sansa who married Joffrey and was never made aware that Joffrey killed her father or of Joffrey’s true colors. Yes I plan to make several allusions to Joffrey via Rhaegar there is a reason I said this fic was ANTI-TARGARYEN.  
> This chapter will be used to tie up a couple of loose ends that I still had left hanging out there in regards to some of my characters namely finally reuniting the Targaryens and of course the start of Jon Arryn’s suspicions about the royal children. Hey going to give you something new, no time jumps in this chapter so here are the ages for all the children in this chapter.  
> Viserys-24  
> Daenerys-15  
> Jon-16  
> Rob-16  
> Joffrey-14  
> Sansa-11  
> Myrcella-11  
> Arya-9  
> Bran-7  
> Tommen-7  
> Rickon-3

**Chapter 4-**

The summer storm over the night had left a light dusting of snow on the ground.  The young girl wrapped her furs tighter around her shoulders as she slipped out of the keep.  It was quiet and no one paid any notice to the red head as she slipped quietly across the courtyard, past the kennels and into the godswood.  Once in the wood she sat herself at the base of the heart tree and took out her embroidery.

Arya had gotten in trouble with the septa again and Sansa didn’t wish to draw her younger sister’s ire.  She felt badly enough about how un northern she was the last thing she needed was for the Septa to draw unfavorable comparisons between the sisters as she had done the last time Arya had avoided lessons.  It was rare for Northern daughters to have a septa but from what she understood it was the one concession her father had given to her mother.  To allow her daughters to have some semblance of a southern upbringing that Catelyn Tully had.  Their way was the old way and their gods the old gods but Catelyn had been born and raised in the south.  She had worshiped the seven and lived a far less harsh life than the one those raised in the north led despite coming of age during the Rebellion.  Sansa didn’t begrudge her mother her small mercies but she wished they didn’t make her life more difficult.

At just eleven name days old, with her red hair and Tully blue eyes, there were already whispers of her being as beautiful as her mother.  The whispers were not kindly meant.  She had been told practically from the time she was old enough to begin lessons that her position as the eldest daughter meant she needed to marry well to secure alliances for her family.  Her brother had no aunts or uncles to give him cousins that he could rely on for aid should he need it so her job would be to secure him a strong alliance.  So she studied and worked to be the best at her lessons but the things that made a good northern wife didn’t come easily to her.  She could ride passably but would rather not if given the choice, while she rarely missed a target in archery her aim was abysmal.  The target would be grazed or stuck on the edge never did she get a bullseye or dead center.  Sansa excelled at the softer studies, embroidery, singing.  History never troubled her and she knew which house was which and kept alliances straight in her head but those things weren’t things that Northern lords noticed or were bragged about.

At not quite nine name days old and a distinctly northern look Arya rode like  a centaur and could out shoot all of their brothers.  Already Sansa had heard murmurs that a few of the Northern Lords had inquired about the possibility of a betrothal between Arya and their house.  Sansa stabbed her needle into her embroidery violently, attempting to snub the elder for the younger.  Father hadn’t said anything about it and she was sure he wouldn’t, it wasn’t a daughters place to question when she was betrothed or to whom.

But it hurt, she tried so hard to show how good and dutiful she was but still she heard sneers of southern.  She saw the lords look to Arya instead.  Septa Mordane liked to brag about Sansa’s skill with embroidery especially when Arya was being difficult or attempting to escape lessons.  Sansa loved her little sister she did and she was proud of how well she rode and could shoot but when Septa Mordane got into a rant about how Arya was lacking.  Well Arya would strike out and if Sansa was around she was usually the convenient target.  It hurt especially when Arya would do her best to skive off lessons to spend more time with the horses or on the archery range.  Father didn’t mind when it was embroidery or music but he was less inclined to be as forgiving when she skived off of Maester Luwin’s lessons.

Arya hadn’t thrown up when she’d witnessed her first execution, Arya didn’t dread executions, Arya doesn’t look like a living reminder of what the North had sacrificed in the rebellion her aunt had caused.  Lady Dustin hadn’t quite hid her sneer when she’d talked to another northern lord about Sansa’s beauty and how pitiable it was she looked so like her southern mother.  A tear slipped down one cheek before she dashed it aside.  All she wanted to was to make her family proud, to make the north proud, and to be a good northern daughter.  The North Remembers.

~~

Arrows whooshed through the air fast and true.  Grey eyes narrowed in concentration as another arrow was picked up knocked then shot.  A scowl marred a face that was by turns called a true northern beauty and horsey, by girls attempting to curry her septa’s favor.  Small teeth gnawed on her lower lip as she lowered the bow and glared at the target.  The target ignored the small girl of nine with out a care.  It had no worries if its tousled brown hair was knotted or not, what did targets care if its stiches laid straight or made a discernable pattern.  Targets just sat there and were shot at.

Arya had no dream of being a target but gods she wished she’d been born a boy.  She hated the softer arts her mother and septa practiced, the arts her older sister excelled at.  Stupid Sansa with her stupid perfect stitches and her perfect manners and her stupid soft spoken ways that were always being praised by mother and Septa Mordane.  Arya raised the bow again to aim at the target and the cluster of arrows already sticking out of the center.

A sigh blew past her lips as she lowered the bow again without loosing the arrow.  It wasn’t Sansa’s fault not truly and it wasn’t fair of her to heap the ire she felt at Septa Mordane onto her poor sister’s head.  Gods knew Sansa didn’t rail at her when the lords made their dissatisfaction with how unnorthern their lord’s eldest daughter was plain.  It didn’t seem to matter to them that sure Sansa wasn’t great on horse or with a bow but she wasn’t awful either.  She was far smarter at lessons than any of them not than any would admit it in public, gods forbid a girl be better at lessons than the lord’s oldest son, but Arya had heard Maester Luwin remark to father once that it was too bad that Sansa hadn’t been born male because she would do well as lord of her own keep.

Arya would love to rub it in some of those sanctimonious northern lords faces when they were talking about how southern Sansa was and what a pity it was that the girl wasn’t a true daughter of the north like Arya how truly Northern her sister was.  Being of the north wasn’t all about riding and archery as he father was fond of saying it was about following the old way and her sister knew every tale and story.  Their history was engrained in her sister’s memory just as the entire layout was etched into her brother Bran’s memory though to be fair Sansa knew the layout almost as well as Bran did.

_‘Practice,’_ had been her sister’s explanation when Arya had wanted to know why Sansa was learning every nook and cranny in Winterfell.  _‘My future may not be as the Lady of Winterfell but it will be as the lady of a keep and I will need to know that keep inside and out.  Learning Winterfell will help me understand how I will need learn whatever keep I wind up being the wife of in the future.’_   Her sister had looked at her with blue eyes so earnest, _‘I don’t have much to offer a husband as a true northern wife but I will run his keep as a northern woman should.  I will know how to defend it, where its weak points are and ever possible entrance.’_

Arya loosed another arrow into the target scowling at it fiercely.  She knew she sometimes yelled at her sister when she really shouldn’t but she couldn’t understand how Sansa could be so sweet all the time.  Her sister rarely yelled back not unless she really got under her sister’s skin.  It had been easier when they had been younger but it seemed as they got older more pressure was put on her sister to be perfect and when she failed Sansa just put more effort into the things she was good at.

“Arya,” her father’s voice called from behind her caused the 9 year old to wince and turn to face him attempting to school her features into an innocent expression though from the sight of Septa Mordane at his side and the scowl on his face she could imagine it didn’t mollify him.

~~

The sound of wooden swords clacking against each other rang out in the quiet of the courtyard.  The scene would look like two squires facing off against each other to the unassuming eye.  Two youths faced off under the eagle eye of Ser Barristan Selmy in his golden armor.  From above Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon watched critically.

“Keep your guard up Joff or else he’s liable to ring your head like a bell,” the king of the seven kingdoms called out to the two boys.

One of the boys a slim fair haired youth of about 14 name days adjusted his grip on the sword but gave no other indication he’d heard.  The fight went on for several moments more before Selmy called a halt to it then began to work the boys through a series of drills.  The king and his hand watched for several moments more before walking away.

“He’s come a long way,” Jon commented to the king as they left.

Robert snorted as he remembered the horror he’d felt five years previous when his son and heir had come to him with the dead cat so pleased with himself.  “Left to long in his mother’s care makes a boy soft,” he grumbled his blue eyes stormy.  “Selmy has him well in hand now.  Says the boy is a natural with a sword and will likely be better than his uncle if he keeps up the practice.”

Jon frowned pensively at the mention of the boy’s uncle it reminded him of the mysterious note he had found on his desk that he had promptly burned and tried to disregard.  _‘The royal children are cuckoos and the product of the queen and the kingslayer.’_   Joffrey may not have any of his father’s features but he talked like Robert, walked like Robert and acted like Robert.  Jon ignored the niggling thought at the back of his mind that all of those things were learned behaviors not inherited behaviors.  “Yes he’s truly become a credit to your grace and the queen.”

Robert rolled his eyes, “She contents herself with turning Tommen into her creature through and through.  The boy is only 7 an already parrots just about everything she says.”  Robert shook himself, “Enough about my children how fares your boy.”

Jon smiled putting aside his troubles with mysterious notes in his room for another day to talk about how after all this time the gods had finally blessing him with a living son.  “Robert just celebrated his first name day,” he said pride evident in his voice as the two men continued walking towards the small council rooms to see to other business for the day.

~~

Pentos was blazing hot.  Viserys clenched the raven scroll in one hand the other convulsed around his sister’s hand as they approached the manse.  Nerves chased themselves around his belly it was almost too much to hope and his handed tightened around his sister’s.  He felt rather than saw her wince, Daenerys was smart enough not to make a sound of discomfort.  The door to the manse opened and a heavy set man smiled at the pair before welcoming them inside.

“Prince Viserys welcome to my home,” Illyrio Mopatis said with a slight bow.  “I am pleased that I was able to find you and offer you sanctuary in these trying times.”

Viserys violet eyes widened then narrowed at the honorific the magister had chosen for him before he could voice his displeasure he was distracted by a familiar face, “Ser Arthur,” he said shock in his tone.

Arthur Dayne smiled as he strode forward to greet the pair of Targaryens, “Prince Viserys, Princess Daenerys,” he said as he bowed to both of them before guiding them through the manse.  “I’m sorry for the troubles you have faced since your father and brother’s deaths.  Ser Oswell and I have been trying to track you down as well as staying two steps ahead of the usurpers dogs ourselves.  We were sorry we couldn’t prevent your troubles after Ser William Darry passed.”

Viserys nodded distracted by the talk as they walked through another door and out into a sheltered courtyard.  Two men were sparring fiercely with blunted steel swords.  Viserys recognized one as Oswell Whent but the other was a stranger a boy perhaps a year older than his sister with dark curls and stormy grey eyes.  The boy was holding his own against Oswell with a skill he’d last seen in his brother Rhaegar.  A dark haired woman was also watching the duel she had grey eyes that matched the boy and Arthur led them to her side.  Her grey eyes widened when she saw them before a small smile curved her lips and she dropped into a curtsy for them.

“Your highnesses let me present to you Princess Lyanna Targaryen your brother Rhaegar’s widow,” Arthur said.  Viserys felt as though he had been sucker punched and it was only his years in exile that allowed him to keep his face blank.  Anger curdled in his belly as the pair sparring came to an end with Oswell unarmed and the boy’s blade to his throat.

“Well done your grace,” Oswell said with a laugh, “I see you’ve been practicing with the sell swords again.”  The boy laughed as well before letting the sword drop and turning to face them.  Viserys tried to tell himself that he didn’t see any evidence of his brother in the boy’s features to tell himself that these people were trying to steal his birth right that he was the last dragon. 

“Your grace,” Arthur said bowing as he approached the boy then turned back to Viserys and Daenerys, “allow me to present your Uncle and Aunt,” he gestured to them and Daenerys immediately swept a curtsy, Viserys bowed but it was slower in coming and done reluctantly.  “Your highnesses allow me to present Jonnel Targaryen, First of His Name, King of the Andals, the Rhoyner and the First Men, Lord Protector of the Seven Kingdoms.”

Viserys studied the boy who was usurping his title, his nephew.  He was no true dragon.  He would bide his time for now.  They had no money and no protection and though it burned him to have to bow to someone inferior to him he would do so if it brought him closer to home and restoring the throne to him.  His mother had crowned him before her death and his father had disinherited Rhaegar’s son Aegon before his death, he’s sure Aerys would have disinherited this mixed blood whelp as well had he been aware of him.

No he smiled at his nephew and accepted his hand releasing his sister into the care of his brother’s concubine.  He would bide his time and then when the time was right he would take what was his with fire and blood.

~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so a shorter chapter to sort of tie things together and bring everything up to the events of book one season one. A little angst from Sansa and anger from Arya to kind of give you insight into their childhoods to date as well as their relationship as you can see Sansa is the outcast now which is really going to affect things when the family travels south and they get hit with Lyanna’s reputation which is really bad in the south as compared to the North where the fault is placed more on Rhaegar than her, not that she isn’t blamed just that in the north the Stark name doesn’t suffer so much from it. I blame a review I had for the start on changing Joffrey. Not that Joffrey is going to be redeemed or become a good guy just that his character is going to be different because a Robert who is more focused on kingship and ruling isn’t going to allow his son and heir to be the nancy pompous arsewipe that Joffrey was in the books. I also realized I wanted someone from the next generation to be in charge in King’s Landing when we got there so Joffrey’s story is going to change a lot but he isn’t going to be redeemed. You’ll have to wait and see where I go with that story. And of course I brought all the Targaryens together finally with Viserys finding out he isn’t the king he thought he was. As always let me know what you think of the chapter.


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